She Was His Child
by MollyMonster
Summary: Náli watched her from afar, watched as she grew into the woman she was today. He had always wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was his child. First One-Shot for The Ever Winding Road Written by HogwartsDwarfKat but edited by me; it's only on my page because that's where TEWR is. Characters: Náli, Mithril, Minriel, Bilbo Baggins, Josie Took Relationships: Náli/Josie Took
**Author's note: Before I let you read, I have to let you know that while this story is posted on my site, it was actually HogwartsDwarfKat who wrote it. I merely edited it a bit. We decided however that it made more sense for us to post this on my site, since that's where the series this goes along with, _The Ever Winding Road_ , is posted.**

 **That being said, I know I promised you guys this two days ago. We really did try; we were up till midnight on the 28 sending edits back and forth, and nearly as late last night. Please forgive us for the tardiness.**

 **Well, enjoy!**

* * *

Náli remembered the first time he had seen her; she had taken his breath away. She had been running around the market place in Erebor, wild and free, ready to take on the world. Her dark brown curls, just as wild as the girl's spirit, had been bouncing around her face, and her hazel eyes had sparkled brighter than the Arkenstone.

He had watched her as she had darted from stall to stall, taking in all the crafts and toys. Her father had followed her around frantically, as if worried he'd lose her in the crowd, but always careful of the young, half elven babe in his arms. The hobbit had been having a difficult time keeping pace with the young girl, as she insisted that he buy the babe this and that toy before darting off to another cart without him.

All Náli could think about was a love he had lost because of his own stupidity. His memories overloaded his system; memories of a hobbit lass spinning in an open field, head thrown back in laughter. Her eyes had sparkled with the same light as this little girl –identical eyes that had the same love of life and carefreeness of his lost love.

He had shaken the thought of Josie out of his mind as he saw the King's consort usher the girl away with a smile in his direction as he pulled her away from Náli's cart –obviously afraid that she'd break the delicate combs he was selling. For whatever reason he felt his heart lurch as he watched the young Princess Mithril –as that was who she was– walk on.

* * *

Mithril was older the next time Náli had seen her; not much, just a few years. She was around ten at the time if he remembered her birthday announcements right from earlier in the year. She had been running around with that elf cousin of hers –Mineth, or something of the like. Náli had heard them talking about going to see the blasted elf king, excitement leaking into each of their voices. He had noticed though how it had seemed that Mithril was trying to make her excitement sound less than what it was, and couldn't help but feel pride that she seemed wary of the elves. He had watched as the young half dwarf helped her cousin up after the half elf tripped over nothing, much the way Náli had always helped his younger siblings. He wondered then if the dwarfling felt the same misguided sense of duty too that he had, if she felt that as the oldest she had to stay focused and not get worked up over anything. (He wouldn't have admitted it, but he had worried that she'd miss out on what life had to offer if she kept up like this. He knew better than most how much regret could destroy a person.)

Somehow, the scene had taken him back to late nights with Josie, where she'd begged him for tales of his encounters with elves. Nights where she had laughed at his slight exaggerations, saying that he was being biased, that surely not _all_ elves couldn't be trusted. Took him back to nights where he had chuckled at her words and fascination with elves as if they were that of a silly child and begun spin tales of Erebor.

Mahal, how he missed those nights.

* * *

The next solid memory Náli had of Mithril was not a happy occasion. It was the day Erebor had hanged the conspirators that had tried to take the lives of Tauriel and Minriel (whose names he had finally learned).

While most of Erebor had been entranced with the executions, Náli's eyes had been solely for Mithril as the young dwarfling and her cousin clung together, with fear in their eyes as tangible as any gem Náli worked with. Despite her fear, Mithril had had the same protective look that he himself probably had over his newest nephew. Náli had known after seeing that look that the rumor of the young girl camping out in front of the elfling's door with any weapon she could get her hands on had been true. The dwarf could tell that Mithril was willing to put herself in harm's way for her cousin, (after all, she had done so before and had nearly been killed) and it terrified him. He wondered what Josie would think about the girl; he now knew that the princess was her daughter and had been adopted by the king's consort after she had died. He finally knew why the girl always brought him back to memories of the pretty hobbit –memories like the time they talked about what they wanted out of life.

 _The two were lying on a blanket in one of Hobbiton's many hills at sunset a week before he had to leave when she asked him about what he thought was in his future. Náli answered honestly; living out life in Erebor, taking over the family business, working on his craft until the day he died at a very old age, and perhaps a good woman to love him._

 _He then asked Josie what she wanted. She sighed a little wistfully, and said a daughter running around barefoot in the Shire's bright green grass just as she had done in her childhood. He laughed when she asked if he had ever wanted to be a father and told her that he wouldn't be a good one. That he'd get too annoyed with a little one interrupting his work all day._

That had been the beginning of the end; by the week's conclusion they had agreed to go their separate ways, knowing that perhaps they were just too different, even though it broke both of their hearts. Náli had held true to his predictions for his life and he still did.

Looking at Josie's little girl though, he had wondered what it would have been like to have a child – _Josie's_ child.

Náli hadn't taken his eyes off Josie's girl until the crowds had begun to disperse, backs to the twenty-six swinging bodies of the treacherous dead.

* * *

The years had passed and Mithril had gotten older. Náli had learned as much about the girl as anyone else, including that her birth father was unknown. Despite his best efforts, anytime she had passed or, Mahal bless it, stopped at the shop he'd finally made enough money to buy, he couldn't help the thought that maybe, just maybe, she was his child. The half-dwarf had reminded him so much of both Josie and himself in the way she acted. In looks she was just like his dearest Josie, but sometimes he could see himself in her jaw line or nose, or the way she would furrow her brow in thought and concentration. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he could never shake the feeling that she was his child.

Never shake the hope that she was –just so something of him and Josie could still be around now that they were over, and Josie was gone.

* * *

All the long years of watching the child grow had led to this moment. Mithril was in her forties and, though he did not know it yet, it was going to be the last time Náli saw her. It was the day Balin and his men were leaving Erebor to take back Moria– himself included. They were just getting King Thorin's blessing as was the formality for journeys of this nature. Mithril was in the throne room fulfilling her duties as princess while her cousin braided her hair. Náli gave a slight smile of amusement at the sight as he wondered why the elf had decided to braid the other's hair. Had it fallen out of the style it was in or was she just bored?

He wouldn't blame her if she was; he was almost positive that everyone assembled that day was.

He would always remember what Mithril looked like in those moments. She wore trousers and a flowing shirt of grass green that reminded Náli of sunlit hillsides. Náli had always found it amusing how Mithril refused to wear dresses. She wore very little jewelry; one ring. Náli's heart did a little skip as he saw it, for it was the ring he himself had sent her. He wondered if she knew who the sender was –he doubted it. Her brown curls, wild except for a few braids that signified her royalty, were rapidly being lifted up and away from her face as Minriel braided them back, and what was still loose cascaded around her face. Mithril's face was serene, but Náli could read the unspoken worries for the quest in her eyes. He ached to go to her, to reassure her, but knew he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

Náli tried his best to watch the goings on of the blessing, but it was so hard when Josie's girl would snicker at something that Minriel would whisper. Even now, in front of his king and the king's consort, Náli wondered if he was her birth father, as wrong as it seemed to do so while the ones who had raised her were right in front of him.

The blessing continued on and Minriel seemed to have finally finished the intricate little braids she did Mithril's hair in (though Náli hated to compliment an elf, even if it was Mithril's cousin, he had to admit that she was quite the braider.) It seemed that the elf wasn't quite done with the darrowdame's hair though, as Mithril stayed in place without a word –and soon Náli knew why. From out of a little drawstring bag the raven haired girl pulled out a hair comb and had placed it in Mithril's dark brown hair. A hair comb that Náli knew all too well.

A hair comb that took him back to the first time he had met Josie.

 _He had seen her coming down the rows of dwarven carts that were selling all sorts of things. His first thought had been that she was beautiful –not in the way that darrowdames were, but in the way that must have been typical of hobbits. As she had stopped at his cart her hazel eyes had widened and her mouth had formed a perfect 'o' as she marveled at the hair combs he and his father had made. She ran a finger over one of the more extravagant combs, one of the few that he had made by himself. It was a flower design; sapphires and amethysts made up the petals, emeralds for the leaves, and there were three small pearls at the center of the flower. It had physically pained him when the price had been too high for the beautiful lass to pay (for the life of him he couldn't figure out why though,) so he had offered her a discounted price -twenty less coins if she'd go for drink with him that night. He didn't know why he had said that, but seeing her smile at him all that night with the comb in her hair had made the loss in profit worth it._

When Náli had left on the journey with the rest of the dwarves after the blessing his only thought was of doing something worthy for the princess.

Just in case Josie's little girl was his little girl.


End file.
